By Darcy Lee Malone
He looks at me. He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t look mad or sad. I can’t tell if he
knows what happened or if he just knows that he will
never really be in this room with us again. Not
the whole him.
Jeanie has sobered up as well and I know
what she is going to say before she says it. “John, Hon,
look at me. Who am I, Hon?” I hate it when she
asks him that. She has been asking it for the past
couple of weeks, ever since we noticed his behavior
changing. She is desperate that he doesn’t forget
“Jesus Christ, woman. You’re
Jeanie Malone. My wife.” My dad, my real dad, answers,
rolling his eyes and looking at my sister and me for
confirmation that Jeanie is a lunatic. We give it
Everything in this room is the same as
it has been for years, except for the extra sofa.
And the cancer.
Darcy Lee Malone was a caregiver for
her father during the last year of his life. She is
married, the mother of four children and a graduate
student working towards her MA in English. Darcy
wrote to us of her caregiving experience, “I want to
share those moments with others. I want to let my
readers know that it is normal to have moments of
laughter as well as tears, even when faced with the most
devastating of situations.”